Nightingale Girl by M. R. Pritchard Read Free Book Online

His mouth is hot against mine, demanding. I’ve waited too long for him. My legs part. His hips press against the edge of the mattress to support his weight. Sparrow’s featherlight touch moves down my arms, across my abdomen. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, and in one quick motion he rips them off.
    My eyes flick open and meet his.
    “I’ve been dreaming of doing that.” He smiles and kisses me again. Then he is trailing tiny kisses down my body. “I’ve dreamed of you like this. The entire time we were in Heaven. Damn them for keeping us apart.”
    He kisses the inside of my thigh, and I jerk upright.
    Sparrow glances at me, his eyes heavy and dark with desire. And then he moves, forcing me to back up on the bed until my head hits the pillows. His head dips to kiss me, his tongue spreading the seam of my lips, dipping into my mouth.
    Sweet Jesus, I forgot how good he tastes: sweet from the soda, salty from the chili dog. And there’s simply Sparrow, the part of him that tastes like Christmas and cake batter. I remember that filthy dream I had of him when I was in the Safe House. This is so much better.
    I run my hands down his back, but Sparrow is quick to grab them and secure my wrists above my head with his large hand.
    “I want to touch you,” I whisper and wiggle, trying to free myself.
    “Slow down.” He nips at my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for this for far too long.” He kisses and nips his way across my body. “Patience, Meg. You always rush.”
    I have no patience. I want him now—fast and hard. My body feels like it’s on fire.
    Sparrow’s mouth is on my rib cage, licking the anchor tattoo there. He kisses his way to the heart on my right hip, licking the tattoo there. His head dips lower, and he presses our hands against my abdomen, immobilizing me.
    “Sparrow.” I breathe his name, pained.
    “I know, Meg. Trust me. I know.”
    And then his mouth is on me, and there’s fire in my veins. Stars and lights burst behind my closed eyes, and I grit my teeth, trying not to scream.
    Sparrow moves over me, finally letting go of my wrists so I am free to touch him wherever I want.
    “I love you,” he whispers as his body covers mine.
    I can’t talk, can’t barely think. This is what he does to me.
    His hips push against mine. I moan. Within moments we are coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Sparrow whispers things in my ear again, sweet words. My body aches for him, and then he does that thing with his hips, twisting and thrusting. Something in my center shatters. I arch my back, tighten my legs around him, and call his name.
    Sparrow collapses, his face buried in my neck. We’re both panting like when we’re running from the dead in Hell.
    After, he rolls and tucks me against his side. Being with Sparrow is better than anything. Better than life itself.
    His finger brushes the birthmark on my inner thigh. The ouroboros, Lucifer called it. I have yet to learn its significance.
    “Don’t do it,” I warn.
    Sparrow smiles before he starts to hum “Bed of Roses.”
    He may be teetering on the edge of insanity, but this is the Sparrow I grew to love.
    . . .
    I wake startled from a dream in which all my teeth fell out. There was nothing left but the pink gums of my mouth, and I looked like one of those women back at the trailer park in Gouverneur with nine kids and a thrift-shop purseful of food stamps.
    I jerk upright and run my tongue over my teeth, ensuring that they’re all there.
    “What’s wrong?” Sparrow reaches for me, his voice groggy.
    “I had a dream that they all fell out.” I touch my two front teeth with my finger.
    Sparrow laughs. “That’s Nightingale cursing you for leaving her behind.”
    “She can do that?”
    Sparrow shrugs. “We can all do a little something.”
    Sparrow can do something amazing. He saved me from the Hellions by bursting his feathers off his wings. The feathers fell like razorblades and cut the Hellions to